- Eirene Evripidou

One more day…

Slowly stepping on the rose-petal piles, hands trembling, heart beating faster.
My lips are blue. The vibrating words in my mouth are begging to be released.
When I was a little girl I read books, because they were my Tardises and I could go anywhere in time and space.
And now, I need to escape again…
Stars here are decaying and my cobwebbed dreams are fading away. Nothing soothes the ache, the sharp-edged ghosts, the unrequited love.
I try to see through the fog. I try to keep breathing. But grief overwhelms and dusk prevails.
I keep going without a map. No safety net. Eyes wide open: a patchwork of goodbyes and eclipsed skies.
It’s sad. Like the ashes of a promise of eternity.
Time’s running out. Kiss me. Pass me the liquor. No, I’m fine. (Don’t worry I know how to stitch myself up.)
There’s a hurricane where home should be. But the moon still blankets everything in soft light. Kind of like forgiveness. Compassion. {Let go of the anger.}
My poetry echoes, resonates, pierces through the stagnating darkness. It keeps my heart beating. It makes me dive into moonlit worlds and liquified dreams.
It keeps me alive.

I wrote this before I read about Chester Bennington’s suicide or I would have written something else (maybe later). I used to listen to this song a lot: In The End
I also like the lyrics of this one: The Messenger (Remember you’re loved / And you always will be)


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